Extended Breakfast
by Ruthie G 8
Summary: An incident at breakfast follows Ron for the rest of the day. While most people laugh at him. It isn't that dull, honest.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N**-hey, first fanfic to publish myself! It's set near the beginning of the 3rd book. It is inspired by a joke that occupied the whole of one of my group of friends' lunchtimes. I'll put it at the end. Don't read it now, it'll spoil the humour aspect of this story. So, happy reading (fingers crossed!).

**Disclaimer**- I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any other wizard related things JK Rowling invented. If I had written it, I'd have given up after the second page (short attention span people, not boredom!)

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"AAARRRGGGHHH!"

Harry spun round in reaction to the noise. He was just in time to see Ron, flying at him. His quick reflexes, honed in Quiditch practise, let him jump back in time to avoid being ploughed down. Ron, with his eyes clamped closed shot through Professor Binns and into Professor McGonagall.

Glancing towards the main staircase, Harry saw the chaos of Ron's unusual entrance. Some Ravenclaw first years were huddled next to an enchanted picture of a scantily-clad film star, cut out of a Muggle newspaper that Lee Jordan had been modifying the previous evening. The boys had been gazing at it a few minutes earlier when Harry had passed them, but now they were staring horrified at the scene at the bottom of the staircase.

Ron had crashed into Professor McGonagall hard enough so that she had been knocked over into the path of Peeves latest obsession-buckets full of icy water set to tip over if anyone walked underneath them.

Drenched with water, Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at Ron who was still speeding around the Entrance Hall, a look of terror on his face.

"Finite Incantatem!" Her voice and manner were as calm and straightforward as normal, but her eyes flashed with anger. Ron hit the floor with a thump. Firstly, he looked confused at the sudden stillness of the world, but his expression quickly changed to one of resigned horror as the Transfigeration teacher walked towards him. Gulping, he shakily stood, swaying a little like he had just stepped off a boat.

"Mr Weasley, would you be so kind as to explain yourself?"

"Well, I, em, er…"

"More specifically, could you please enlighten me as to why walking or even broom is no longer an acceptable form of transport for you? Or is there some other reason that a long-lasting levitation charm had been put on you?"

From the corner of his eye Harry noticed two streaks of red that told him exactly what other reason had made Ron do a fairly decent impression of a crash landing aeroplane. The only thing that made Fred and George move as fast as pancakes on Fridays was to avoid detection, and seeing as it was only Monday, Harry could make a reasonable guess as to who Ron's ranting would be directed at.

He wasn't the only one to see them. "Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley, I think you could be useful in solving this. A moment of your time." The self-appointed trouble-makers-in-chief of Hogwarts slowly turned and trudged over towards their younger brother and the head-of-house. Their faces showed that they were guilty as charged.

Sensing that this could take some time Harry went into the Great Hall to get breakfast. The ceiling today was dark with clouds, like it had been for the past week. Not an encouraging sight when he would be spending a lesson outside in Care of Magical Creatures. In their last lesson they had discovered that hippogriffs _hate _rain.

It was five minutes before Ron entered the hall. During that time Harry had been showered with droplets of rain from the owls, cornered by Wood about practise, Colin Creevey about his latest photographs and Hermione on how he needed to start the essay they had been set for that Thursday.

"It isn't a matter of whether you can do it or not, I know you can handle Charms reasonably well, it's more about if Wood decides to hold another of his ridiculous practises. The ones he decides on at lunch. Last week you nearly fell asleep in potions, you had to stay up so late to finish homework after them."

Really, Harry thought, only Hermione was able to make a point he would rather not have thought of quite so effectively. He was just trying to decide how to tell Hermione that Wood had just told him that there was now a practise scheduled for an hour after lessons ended when a disgruntled Ron yanked the spare seat next to Harry back and angrily sat down.

"Why do I have Fred and George for older brothers?" Ron was doing nothing calmly. When he put the cereal box down he slammed it so hard a handful of pieces came flying out over the sides. "Bill, Charley, Percy, they all have it easy compared to me. They've pretty much always been able to magic themselves out of it. Even at home before they were allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts they could at least punch 'em. They leave Ginny alone too, most of the time. But me, I get oh, _fantastic_!"

While trying to illustrate his point Ron had been waving his hands in front of him. They had just collided with a jug of Pumpkin Juice. Hermione had taken out her wand, used to Ron's outbursts, and muttered a spell that tipped the jug in the opposite direction, before any juice was spilled.

Ron's outrage had calmed to embarrassment. "Erm, thanks Hermione."

"Maybe rather than saying thanks, you could get your Charms essay done tonight too. Seeing as I'll end up helping you whenever you do it." Ron looked flawed. She had the two of them cornered.

Trying to prevent the rant before Hermione got into full flow Harry tried changing the topic. "What happened to Fred and George anyway? I thought you were finished until Professor McGonagall spotted them."

"Detention tonight. And ten points from Gryffindor each. Then she saw Lee Jordan's poster, so now they have the blame for that too. If Wood tries to get you to do any practises today he is screwed. Hasn't he been getting them to hit Bludgers at the rest of you?" Ron said all this around spoonfuls of cereal. The fate of his brothers and often tormentors was not going to get in the way of his stomach.

Harry was pleased to hear this and grinned around his toast. Wood was obsessed with the Cup, but surely not enough that the combination of rain, wind and no Beaters would make him hold a practise. It was also made worse for him with Professor Trelawney's predictions of his death. Immediate doom seemed a lot more likely when he could barely see through his glasses.

Ron was suddenly looking at his cereal bowl with interest. "Hey, Harry, I think I'm getting the hang of this tea leaf business. Does it still count if it's a different kind of food?"

"What are you talking about Ron?" Hermione asked. "I thought we had all agreed that Divination is nothing but time to flatter Professor Trelawney's oversized ego."

Divination, Ron and Harry had decided in private, had done Hermione some good. She had never before criticised a teacher's skill before. In fact, the only time she had ever said anything against one of the staff was when they thought Snape was trying to kill Harry. Her inability to grasp Divination had made her scornful of anything connected with the subject.

Ron was still staring at his breakfast. "My breakfast has sent me a message. Here Harry, you look. It's safe, not about your nearly-deadness."

"For once." Harry looked at the bowl's contents and saw what Ron meant. Quite successfully keeping a straight face he said "I see what you mean. "Oooooo" Maybe you're getting a letter that got side tracked in the weather."

"I like that one. A nice, normal prediction." Ron was getting into interpreting the meaning of his message. "A prediction's never good though. Lesson one: someone has to come out worse. Maybe Parvati and Lavender are gonna start singing again. Next time we're in Herbology I'm gonna ask Professor Sprout what she gave us for the mandrakes last year. Parvati and Lavender are only a bit louder than they were."

"I know. It's Fred and George's OWL results. This is telling us they'll actually do some work." The two of them burst out into hysterics. "Or maybe it definitely won't be that." Harry got the words out between not falling off his seat and not being pushed of it by Ron.

An exasperated Hermione picked up the bowl. "Let me have a look at this prediction," she demanded. For several seconds she looked like Ron had just announced he had done his potions homework without prompting. Then she joined in the laughing, although not as madly as Harry and Ron. Her expression had just sent them into another bout of sniggers.

Putting the bowl back in front of Ron she said "You do know Cheerios have no magical properties whatsoever, don't you?" He nodded and immediately resumed eating with gusto. "If only Divination was that reliable. Rather than looking for ducks or trees or what ever shape she decides on in teacups."

We could spend all lesson looking for lessons in alphabet soup" Harry agreed.

Once they had finished eating they stood to go to Divination. Or Harry and Hermione stood. Ron was looking thoughtfully at the half-finished box of Cheerios. "Do you think they'll miss one box?" he said, half to himself. Without waiting for an answer he shrugged and grabbed the package and stood. As they walked out, there was a brief clap of thunder overhead, and the sound of Peeves resetting his traps ahead of them. They made a mental note to walk around the sides of the Entrance Hall.

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Ok anyone still with us, here's the joke:

Ron: Harry, my food's sending me a message.

Harry: What's it say?

Ron: Oooooooo.

_Harry looks at Ron's food._

Ron, you're eating spaghetti hoops.

I had to make minor adjustments, but I think this is the most elaborate set up for a joke, most likely in the history of time.

Chapter two is not based on a joke, just the random musings of some hyper 14 year old girls inspired by above joke.


	2. Divination

**AN **– thanks for the reviews!

**Disclaimer** – I still don't own any of the characters or places in this fanfic. I don't own any of the songs either, thankfully. Because if I were responsible I would feel very ashamed of myself. Mind you, if I were responsible for the songs very few would have been completed. So many people would have been saved…

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Professor Trelawney's room had one thing going for it as the weather got colder- warmth that Harry could tell would be much appreciated in even a few weeks. He could see Divination becoming a bearable lesson, because of the fire constantly kept burning, by Christmas.

He and Ron half ran, half hurdled across the crowded room to reach their favourite table. When they sank into their chairs they could see a trail of Cheerios across the room. Ron shoved the cereal box under the small table behind his bag.

"What are you going to do with those?" Harry asked, indicating the cereal box.

Ron looked fairly pleased with himself. "Snack. Next best thing to biscuits. What? They taste really good, can I help that?.. Oh dear God, here come the wannabe Weird Sisters." Lavender and Parvati had just come up the little ladder and were singing very loudly:

"Stick to the status,

Stick to the status,

Stick to the status QUO!"

The end of each line was punctuated with a little dance move, and all the time they were building in crescendo. The overall effect was annoying the first time, mind numbing after about one hundred repeat performances.

Ron groaned. "What is that even from? What git would make up a song that can probably land people in St Mungos?"

Harry had no idea but Professor Trelawney's entrance into the cramped room stopped him from answering and generally bemoaning that anyone had created High School Musical.

"Good morning class," her voice drifted over the class. "You all now know the procedure for tealeaf reading. And Neville, could you please get a blue cup again?"

A general bustle filled the classroom for the next few minutes. When everyone was set up Professor Trelawney started to circle the classroom with the boiling water. Lavender and Parvati forgot to sing, they were so absorbed in waiting for the tea to infuse. Neville watched the kettle warily when it was his turn and pushed the teacup towards the middle of the table when it was full- the previous week he had managed to smash the teacup over his bag, only narrowly missing a stowaway Trevor.

Hermione was reading her Ancient Runes book under the table and barley bothered to hide it while her water was poured. For a week or so the book had been on Divination, but she had swapped to her favourite subject quite quickly. Ron especially thought it was an amazing way to tease her, but both he and Harry were fascinated that dislike of a teacher could invoke such a rebellion from her.

The water came to their table and was poured. They circled their cups in a way that had become almost second nature to them and set them down to let the drink cool.

Ron took another handful of cereal pieces and offered the box to Harry. "Do you want some? I've got plenty."

"Not really. I had a fairly bad experience at the Dursley's with them." It had been just before the summer holidays before everyone went to secondary. Dudley and his gang had decided to play one last joke at his expense and had found treat size boxes of Cheerios and cans of milk and poured them into his bag. The bags were kept in a room with constantly running central heating and by the end of the day the place smelt of bad milk. He had been made to spend the first weekend of the holidays in his cupboard, which had been quite beneficial for him really. It had kept him away from the gang for the first boisterous weekend. By the time he was let out they had a more exciting project than beating Harry up. Something to do with getting spray paint.

Ron shrugged. The Cheerios that were sitting in his cupped hand jumped a little. Suddenly there was the crash of Neville's teacup. Everyone turned round to see where the water had gone. None of it had splashed onto the floor. Neville got up to get a new teacup while Professor Trelawney cleared up the water and everyone else turned round now they knew that there weren't any endangered toads in the room.

And Ron's hand was half empty. In his cup there were little ripples across the surface.

Harry broke the silence that seemed a little over-dramatical for some cereal. "Are they in…" he didn't need to end the sentence because Ron nodded looking like he had eaten one of the worse flavours in Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, the flavours no one could ever distinguish and were quite glad to leave well alone.

He shoved the rest of his Cheerios into his mouth. He chewed slowly. When he swallowed he looked unhappier than before. He took a sip of his tea and grimiced. "Harry, never use tea as a substitute for milk. It doesn't do much for it. I'm in for it, aren't I?"

"Afraid so" Harry took a sip of his own, Cheerios free tea. The leaves were actually quite nice and made good tea. It was refreshing first thing in the morning.

They drank the remainder of their cups in silence, Ron grimacing, circling their cups when needed, and eventually tipped out the leaves onto the saucers. Harry's leaves looked like the normal assortment of dregs he always found at the bottom of his cup. No dogs as far as he could see, but by now he would have but money on Professor Trelawney being able to find one in what looked like the Whomping Willow. Ron's saucer was covered in a light brown sludge that had hints of leaves mixed into it. There were no shapes, just a gloopy lump. Ron poked it gingerly with the end of his wand and the lumps slurped into a bigger heap.

Professor Trelawney had started winding her way around the room checking people's saucers. She was just pointing out to Neville a duck in his. It apparently meant chaos. After Neville she always came to their table. Ron began poking the mass more forcefully, trying to coax it into vague shapes, but as soon as he moved his wand it sunk back towards the main shapeless blob.

"Harry, swap with me," he hissed. "If it's yours she'll find some way to say it's a dog."

Harry was having a hard time trying not to laugh at the look of desperation on Ron's face. "Sorry mate, your mess. Besides, she'll probably be too busy reminding me I'm about to die to notice that. Much."

"Well," Professor Trelawney said across a disgruntled Hermione's table (disgruntled partly because the teacher was favouring death and destruction to mere bad fortune and partly because she was unable to see any omens, discouraging or otherwise), "What do you two have? Let me see yours first, please Harry. This does look rather interesting, what have you managed to…oh."

The "oh" was when she saw Ron's Cheerio mush.

Although rather dramatic upon seeing Harry's predictions each week the Divination teacher was, for the most part, serene. She had never become angry at anyone in the class before. As far as they had heard, she had never shouted at anyone in any class. But when she saw Ron's teacup her eyes flashed menacingly in a way not unlike Professor McGonagall's had that morning. Only, Professor McGonagall had a calmer expression.

That day, Harry was not warned of his immediate and inevitable death.


	3. Common Room

**Disclaimer** – Still don't own any of the characters, songs or spells in this fic. I'm getting nothing from this but laughs at my bad typing.

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Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor Common Room that evening. Fred and George had just got back from their detention and now had to face the wrath of a thwarted Oliver Wood. Harry and Ron's essays lay on the table in front of them, forgotten. Wood's face was turning a shade of purple that Harry had only seen displayed before on Vernon Dursley, and Fred and George's retorts only made the situation more preferable to concentrating on homework.

"I'll tell you one thing about those two being my brothers," Ron said, thoughtfully plucking the feathers from the end of his quill, a habit that was the equivalent of Muggles chewing the ends of pencils, and equally annoying. "This free entertainment? That's them when Mum yells at them. But she's even better."

Hermione looked up from her book. It was reading she had been set for Muggle Studies. "If you get so much "free entertainment" at home then why don't you finish your essay, since it isn't anything you haven't seen before? Then you could make a start on Charms."

Ron reluctantly turned back to his punishment for the Cheerios incident: "The Importance of Foodstuffs to Divination." The main idea of the task seemed to be to rewrite Professor Trelawney's rant on "inappropriate eating habits" into a plausible essay on why Cheerios are not commonly used in fortune telling.

It was to be a foot longer than their Charms essay, which Harry just needed to add a conclusion to. He felt he was entitled to watch the shouting match (something the whole Common Room seemed to be doing), but Hermione was shooting him very scary and slightly evil glares over her textbook. They had gotten a lot better since the previous year and if he didn't know how much she adored the cat Harry would have blamed Crookshanks.

As he put the full stop to the last sentence, Wood stormed out of the room through the Fat Lady, muttering something about the library.

Fred and George slumped into some chairs on the other side of the table Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated around. Wood might not have realised it, but he had probably come out of the argument better off. That the twins weren't plotting some prank to get back at him showed how lucky he was.

"So, what is he making you do for stopping the practise?" Harry asked," hurriedly screwing the cap back onto his ink bottle. An annoyed Weasley twin and homework were a risky mix. Two of them were even worse.

They both pulled faces. "He hasn't decided. I think he might ask Hagrid for something to attack us with, though. Or tell us to fight them off with clubs," George said. "He's never really liked animals much. Maybe he went to the library to decide which one to ask Hagrid for. I wonder which he'll choose for us."

"I don't think we'll know until it's too late," Fred added. "It will be so much wasted talent. All for a hovering charm and a poster that we did not even know about until this morning. And they were both funny!"

"Not if you're the one flying without a broom" Ron muttered, scowling.

"I wish we were responsible for the poster," George put in, completely ignoring Ron, "but we only take credit where credit's due. Fred, do you think if Lee did another he would like some help choosing where to put it?"

"A fantastic idea George. I personally think opposite Professor McGonagall's office would be a fantastic location. Really eye-catching, and a bit of light relief for all the poor souls who have to go there."

Ron snorted. "The first poor souls will be you two, since she thinks you did the first one. Which from what I saw last night was pretty amazing. Tell Lee I think he should definitely do another."

"Alright, little brother. Since we have your approval, I think now is as good a time as ever to go see what other posters Lee collected over the summer. C'mon George." Fred jumped up like an overenthusiastic puppy, and was quickly mimicked by George. Any remorse for missing practise they might have had was gone; they were so energised by the idea of a new project.

The three of them sat in silence for a while. Hermione continued her book, Ron scratched at his essay, occasionally cursing under his breath at a particularly elusive phrase. Harry started to levitate different objects, trying to shock the first years with a quill shooting past their noses and looping around their heads. But they had obviously had this trick played on them too many times. For the first week or so they had looked like rabbits caught in headlights. Now they batted it away with their hands, slightly annoyed.

Harry stood up and stretched, picked up his essay and quills before one of the angered first years decided to retaliate and put the things in his bag. He went to the dormitories to put his homework away. He didn't think he had been away long, but more time than he realised must have past, because when he got downstairs he nearly crashed into an extremely irritated Hermione, who was opening the door to the girls staircase.

"Harry, I'm going to bed. There is no point in trying to read this with Fred and George's "distraction". How could any sane person want to use that as a distraction anyway, it's enough to drive people insane."

"What "distraction"? I've been upstairs; I don't know what's happening. What do they need a distraction for anyway?" Harry wanted to know exactly what was going on, and Hermione was often the best source.

"It's those stupid posters! Why can't they keep them in their rooms or something?" Hermione was getting into full-rant mode, something she seemed to realise because she shook her head vigorously. "Sorry, Harry, I'm really tired. I should be yelling at them if anyone. It's just a bit annoying. I can't escape from Lavender and Parvati by going to bed. I've had to use ear plugs for weeks just to block out the singing! Down here is really more than I can put up with. Oh no, they're starting again. I'll see you in the morning." And she turned and started sprinting up the stairs.

Harry turned to look at the diversion. Fred and George had commandeered a table and were standing on it, with half the Common Room crowded around. The other half were imitating Hermione and fleeing for the stairs.

George was calling out in his best ring master's voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, cats, rats and owls, for our next number we shall need absolute silence. If you please…"

Silence fell over the room. Then:

"We're soarin' flyin', there's not a star,

In heaven that we can't reach."

"If we're tryin', so we're breakin' free."

Fred sang the male part in an obviously fake and very off-tune gruff voice. George sang more tunefully in a high-pitched falsetto. Both were over-exaggerating everything they did, to tremendous amounts of whopping and cheers. As they got further through the song their dancing got wilder and wilder. People moved away from the table warily when George nearly fell off, but still watched avidly.

In a corner Lavender and Parvati were sitting with shocked expressions. How could anyone abuse the poor song like that? To them, it was like a car crash- they couldn't look away even though what they were seeing was too horrible to bear thinking about.

Fred and George finished the song and everyone left in the Common Room (except Lavender and Parvati, who both looked like they had seen a small and fluffy animal set upon by Dementors) started a round of deafening applause. Someone started yelling "Encore" and soon there was a chant running through the room.

"EN-CORE, EN-CORE, EN-CORE!" Amidst the rumble of voices no one heard the portrait door shutting. Harry only noticed it because of Hermione's tip off.

Ron was still sitting at the table. His quill was hanging between the paper and the ink bottle. While Fred and George were waving and bowing and trying to beat off the excited Gryffindors he looked up and saw Harry. "It's finished!" He started waving the essay in the air, nearly knocking his ink bottle over in the process.

George and Fred burst into another song. Harry and Ron both moved over to join the crowd that was still milling around the table. It was going to be a very entertaining evening.


	4. Fred and George's Plan

**AN **– last chapter! I couldn't resist leaving Fred and George alone, and I always had a feeling that Lee Jordan might have to put up with quite a lot from them. Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer **– I don't own any of the characters in this story.

Lee Jordan had just got to the foot of the staircase that led to the floor on which Professor McGonagall's office was situated, when he realised a vital flaw in the plan. The walls along some corridors had been charmed to repel any sticking charms, and he would confidently bet, if he weren't saving his money for Hogsmeade, that the Transfigeration teacher had included her floor.

Sighing he turned around, enchanted picture collage under his arm and started back up the stairs. At least he would be able to see some of the act. It was scary how little persuasion either of the twins had required to sing those High School Musical songs.

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"You WHAT?!!!"

"I kind of forgot that you can't use sticking charms on most corridors."

"Now what? I'm sure everyone adored our interpretation of the Disney channel's most annoying torture creation, but they'll have seen through it. Most of 'em aren't as dumb as they seem. They'll want more."

"Calm down, I have a back up plan. I'll just need your help to get out again. It isn't as simple as a sticking charm, but I reckon we can pull it off."

"Well, ok. As long as we get code names."

"Yeah, I'll be "Red Fox"."

"And I'll be … em … "Red Squirrel"."

"Neither of you want to be "Weasel"?

"Naw, too obvious. You can have that Lee."

"Alright. Shall we get going?"

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"Red Fox to Weasel, do you have the back up plan?"

"Yeah, George. Here you go."

"It's Red Fox! I really don't think you're taking this very seriously. Now, Weasel, Red Squirrel, hold up the picture. Higher, a little to the left. My left, not your left! Ok, it's squint. A little higher please Red Squirrel. Perfect! Right, just let me get at the corners. Good. Let's scarper, before someone comes along."

"It does look good doesn't it?"

"Yes, Red Squirrel, it does. My friends, we have done this school a service tonight."

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The next morning Professor McGonagall opened her door, and her mouth dropped open.

"Accio" she spat out in disgust. The poster did not move. Frowning she tried again. "Accio." Still the poster did not move. Again and again she tried. Again and again it did not move. Students were starting to pass on their way to breakfast. She needed to get this down now.

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Students filing along the corridors to breakfast that morning saw not only Professor McGonagall, but most other teachers trying to prise the improvised poster off the wall. Professor Flitwick had discussed many variations with Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape had dripped potions around the sides, and they had all glared at the offending item when their brand of magic had failed.

"Well, I suppose we shall just have to set up a diversion until we can have this removed." Professor McGonagall shot the poster another nasty look. "Will someone please call the headmaster so he can approve this?"

"No need to call me Minerva, I'm here. I heard there was something of a disturbance in this corridor. I was however under the impression that Peeves was tipping busts onto people on the floor below in an effort to divert pupils along this corridor." A large amount of those assembled inwardly sighed. They had thought it seemed awfully busy. "I have dealt with him. Now what do we have here?" The tall wizard effortlessly parted the throng of staff as he walked towards the poster. "Ah, I do see why you would want to prevent the students seeing this. Now I understand normal magical methods of removal have not worked?"

"And some not so magical ones Albus." McGonagall was still shooting death glares at the paper. "We have been trying very advanced spells. I'm not sure what else we could do to remove it. I suppose we could always hang something over it if necessary, but I'm not sure which portrait would agree to go over it."

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at the poster. "You say you have exhausted all magical means of removal, am I correct?" There were nods of agreement from all assembled. "But not all means." Before anyone could start to protest, Dumbledore slid a long and thin hand beneath one corner of the poster. "Ah, as I thought." A swift movement of the hand later and the corner of the poster fell away from the wall. In Dumbledore's hand was a small blue lump of … something.

"What is that?" Professor McGonagall could only just get the words out of her mouth. There was a substance she didn't know about?

"This" Dumbledore held the lump above his head in plain view of everyone "is blue tack. A Muggle substance used for sticking objects to walls that is strangely resistant to magic. I think most students use it to put up posters in the dormitories. According to the house elves it can leave the most annoying marks that refuse to move." While he had been speaking, he had been taking the remaining pieces away from the wall. By the end of his speech he had removed the entire thing. "Here Minerva, I think you should dispose of this however you see fit."

Dumping the poster in a stunned Professor McGonagall's arms, the old wizard turned and walked away, leaving behind a stunned staff.


End file.
